


One Dark Name

by Casey_Enough



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (it's just mentioned a lot), Angst, Building Relationship, But also so much fluff and love, Eventual Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Nightmares, Some serious warnings for later chapters, These two just don't have it easy, Touch Telepathy, canon-ish?, mentions of past abusive relationship, no major spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:35:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6216544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Enough/pseuds/Casey_Enough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just kept coming back to that name. That one terrible name, heard by the Doctor only 4 times. And every time, his relationship with Rose grew and changed. If he didn’t know better, he might be thankful for the power of that name. </p><p>But he will never be thankful for Jimmy Stone. </p><p>[A story of the development of the Doctor’s relationship with Rose, told in bursts throughout their time together- all centered around mentions of Jimmy Stone, the one mystery Rose Tyler won’t explain to him. Starting with a bit of Nine/Rose, and every other scene is Ten/Rose. Eventual established relationship. Big warning for an abusive relationship and/or memories of one, especially in the later chapters (not Ten! God, no) and some physical violence- I’ll mark it at the beginning of the chapters. Some decent plot, a lot of hurt/comfort fluff and Ten/Rose feels.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like A Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So, welcome. Each chapter could really read as a stand-alone, so we start with a little Nine (because though I'm a Tennant girl at heart, he was my first Doctor and he clearly loved Rose... good stuff). 
> 
>  
> 
> "The Doctor grows accustomed to Rose's sleeping habits. But he never gets used to her nightmares."
> 
>  
> 
> (Warnings for this chapter are pretty mellow: some serious nightmares, mostly just some good old-fashioned hurt/comfort.)
> 
> Oh, and this is completely un-beta'd and probably a bit rough around the edges, so I apologize sincerely for my weird grammar and other similar tragedies. Mea culpa.

The first time the Doctor heard Jimmy Stone’s name was on a mumbled, sleepy breath as Rose Tyler slept fitfully in the jumpseat (again). 

In the beginning, the whole ‘sleeping’ thing had really chafed him. “Oh, come on, Rose!” he would whine, feeling the console of the TARDIS whir to match his enthusiasm. “How can we stop now? We’re on a roll!”

“We’re not stoppin’.” She would reply, smiling even through her yawns. “We’re… pausin’.” 

The Doctor groaned, making one last desperate plea. “We can go anywhere. Kantra. Enlandia. Even Griophos! And I hate Griophos - it’s always monsoon season.” 

“No deal.” She quipped, throwing him one more apologetic, if somewhat amused grin. “I really need a good kip.” 

“Humans and your inferior Circadian rhythms!” he would gripe after her, but she didn’t back down. 

And he would sigh, and mope, and watch her disappear into her bedroom and wonder why he hadn’t thought to say goodnight. 

She must have picked up on his annoyance, because she pulled away less and less, stumbling stubbornly off into another adventure with him. But even after a couple months together, he not only adjusted to her sleeping habits, he policed them. She was very good at distracting him: she knew just the right questions to ask to send him on a proper ramble, landing them in some smoggy city to settle a bet or finding some new room in the TARDIS to explore. But he could see the dark circles under her eyes after a particularly taxing adventure, and he watched how she sort of collapsed into the jumpseat when she thought he couldn’t see. 

“Alright, off to bed.” He would eventually insist, tugging her arm in the direction of her bedroom. 

“No! Let’s go to Rigel Beta 5! You said you’d take me to tha’ bazaar again.”

“We ended up in prison last time!” 

“I know! Clearly you owe me a do-over.” And she would bat her eyelashes and bite her lip, but he would ignore the somersaults that involuntarily took off in his stomach and put his foot down.

“And you’ll get it. After you get some sleep.” He grinned, holding open her bedroom door and gesturing inside. And she slid past him, collapsing onto her lavender comforter with a grunt, asleep before he closed the door behind him.

Maybe it was the sight of her in her pajamas, shuffling around making tea or curled up on the couch in the library wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon that warmed him up to their little pauses. It gave him time to make the TARDIS a little less… alien. Entertaining guests wasn’t something he’d needed to worry about in a long time. Things like laundry, orange juice, matches… they usually escaped his notice - too domestic. But with Rose around constantly, it started to feel less like a spaceship, and more like a home. 

And if he were to be completely honest with himself, there were other reasons he learned to love Rose’s naps. 

She had fallen asleep slumped against the wall in the console room. Her hair fell in a curtain against her face, fluttering a bit with her steady breathing. He was torn, not wanting to leave her asleep cramped against the wall, but not wanting to wake her to move her. They’d had a long day, with a lot of fleeing and fighting and more than a few really dicey turns. She deserved a good night’s sleep. Well, she deserved much more than a good night’s sleep, but he’d be damned if she didn’t get at least that. So he scooped her up, gently, trying to ignore how she felt, warm and soft, in his arms, and brought her to her proper bed. 

And she stirred in his arms, freezing him in place. How would she react if she woke up right now? But to his relief, she just turned, nuzzling into his chest like she was used to sleeping in his arms. His hearts pounded. And just as he was about to set her down (reluctantly) onto the bed, she murmured something into his shirt, warm breath seeping into his skin. 

“Doctor…” she mumbled, and his hearts swooped, tightening his arms slightly against her. Then, slowly, he set her down in the bed, covering her quickly under the comforter to make up for the lost heat of his body. 

“Goodnight, Rose.” he murmured, and after just a moment’s hesitation, he dropped a quick kiss onto her forehead. She stirred in her sleep once more, curling up into a ball with a slight, contented smile. And when he finally closed her door behind him, he found it awfully difficult to wipe the stupid grin off his face, pounding hearts still bringing warmth to his face. 

It certainly wasn’t the last time he’d had to carry her off. After the confusion of the first couple times, she came to expect to wake up warm and happy in her own bed after accidentally dozing off somewhere. And not that she’d ever admit it, but she’d take up huddling in the jump seat after their adventures, chatting with him as he tinkered with the console and under the grating, knowing that she would inevitably fall asleep and wake up warm in her own bed, smelling of leather and tea and time. And he wasn’t complaining. 

She talked in her sleep. Vivid dreams, she told him. She’d had them since she was a kid. Usually it was nothing more than the occasional jumbled phrase, sometimes something random or odd that would make him grin and mentally note to ask her about it tomorrow. But more than anything else, she said his name. She mumbled it against his chest as he carried her. She whispered it like a question when she felt him pull away. Sometimes she shouted it in her nightmares, and he would rush in, hovering by her bedside until she slept quietly again. And he never told her, when she was awake, how much he loved to hear her dreaming about him- but he suspected she knew. 

There was only one other name he ever heard her mumble in her sleep. And it didn’t warm his hearts, it chilled them. 

“Jimmy.” She murmured one night as he set her down on the sheets. He tensed in an instant at the sound of a name he didn’t recognize, but she didn’t say it the way she said his name. Her mouth was a hard line, her fists clenched where they rested against his shirt. If he had known, he would have woken her up right then. But he didn’t know. He just set her down, as cautiously as ever, and tried to ignore the cold sweat just beginning to develop as he brushed her hair off of her forehead. 

And when he left, he didn’t go far. 

It was only a couple hours later when her nightmare caught his attention. He had been shuffling around the corridors of the TARDIS, really just biding his time until she was awake again, when he found himself being led to the same hallway over and over again. He frowned, touching a nearby wall of the TARDIS. 

“She’s asleep,” he said aloud to the empty hallway around him. “And she ought to be, with the day we’ve had.” 

Then he heard her scream. 

He burst through the door he’d been lingering in front of, not caring as it slammed against the wall behind him. The moment after her scream had lasted an eternity- every gruesome possibility behind the sound had played in his mind at the lightning speed only a time lord’s intellect allowed. He was relieved when he saw her, intact, curled up into a ball on the bed. But she was writhing, sheets tangling against her arms and legs. More than that, she was shaking, her normal mumbled sleep-talk turned to shouting and sobbing. 

“Jimmy, please!” She shouted, pounding a fist against the empty mattress. He felt his hearts pound, with confusion and concern and something more like anger. Jimmy. Whoever this Jimmy was, the Doctor was almost certain that he hated him. But his concern took over, and he moved over to the bed, gently locking down her flailing arms before she could hit him. 

“Rose.” He shook her softly, watching how she flinched away from his touch with dread. He grabbed her shoulders more firmly, shaking her back to consciousness. “Rose!”

She sat up with a gasp, hands flying up to protect her face as if on instinct. He watched as she began to process where she was, drawing in deep shuddering breaths but failing to overcome the hyperventilation from her sobbing. With one more wobbly look into his eyes, her head came down between her knees, and the sobbing continued, wracking her small body. He stood, totally at a loss for what to do, one hand still resting idly on her shoulders. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms, make whatever was hurting go away. But he also didn’t want to make anything worse. He couldn’t stand to see her flinch away from his touch. But she solved the problem for him when she drew his hand off her shoulder and into her arms, clutching it like a child would a stuffed animal. 

Immediately, he crawled up onto the bed, leaning against the headboard and wrapping his free arm around her, drawing her closer. Her body, already several degrees warmer than his, was practically feverish. She was sort of hiccuping now, obviously trying to say something to him, but he hushed her, tucking her head into his neck. He could feel her silent tears against his skin, and her waves of panic and confusion and hurt and fear and sadness breaking against his mind as their skin touched. His hearts clenched. He knew she had vivid dreams, but he couldn’t think of anything that should make her feel like this. It was awful. He wanted to soothe her mind, just step in and make everything quiet and peaceful and calm, but even in this state he wouldn’t dare do that without her permission. They would have to do things the human way. And if the human way meant staying here, on her tangled lavender bedsheets, and holding her until she felt better, he would do it. 

He zoned back in as she mumbled something against her neck. Her voice was low and wavering and unsure, but he needed to hear what she was saying. 

“Hm?” he asked gently, pulling back slightly to hear her better. She still spoke into his neck, but a little more coherently. 

“ ‘M sorry.” she began, swallowing hard. “To drag you in here in the middle of the ni-night.” She breathed hard, finally beginning to slow her frantic heartbeat. “Were… were you asleep?” 

He frowned. Situation they were in, and she was worrying about him. “No.” he murmured. “I was just… tinkering.” It was a white lie, but he didn’t know how to explain to her his niggling sense that something was wrong. Instead, his arm that was wrapped around her tightened infinitesimally, keeping her wrapped around him. “And don’t be sorry.”

“But I’m ruining your favorite jacket.” She replied, with a tone that would have been teasing any other day but fell flat with her tear-soaked voice. 

He ducked down, dropping a chaste kiss to the top of her head before replying. “Hundreds of years old, me. I know how to do laundry.” 

Her returning laugh was weak and died in her throat, sounding dangerously similar to the sobs that had just abated. He hushed her once more, just holding her still for several minutes more before talking again. 

“Can we talk about it?” He asked softly. She stiffened briefly, but then drew in a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh. 

“ ‘Spose I do owe you an explanation.” she mumbled. “Seein’ as I’ve forced you to do laundry.” In spite of himself, he grinned slightly. She drew back from him, turning to look up at him, but staying within the circle of his arms. 

“It’s an old nightmare.” she began, eyebrows furrowing. He resisted the urge to kiss her on the forehead, right where that familiar wrinkle formed when she was anxious. Instead, he leaned back, meeting her eyes steadily. “I haven’t had it in a while. Not since travelling with you, probably.” He ignored the way that admission made him feel, schooling his face back into the one of mild concern he had been wearing before. Now would be an absolutely inappropriate time for one of his stupid grins. Besides, the look in her eyes as she talked to him was enough to sober him up. “Just this…” she winced, biting back the urge to break down into tears again. “This guy, I used to go with. Jimmy Stone.” The Doctor’s hearts dropped. It was exactly what he’d been afraid of, ever since he heard that name. “Let’s just say, things didn’t start well, and they certainly didn’t end well.” 

A tiny shudder travelled up her spine at some memory or another and she closed her eyes, setting her jaw. He ran a hand over her back, soothing her. All the while, a slow, churning fury was building up in his stomach. Jimmy Stone. Jimmy Stone had hurt Rose. Jimmy Stone had given her nightmares, made her scream and cry in her sleep. Jimmy Stone, whoever he was, had better never even think about laying a finger on his Rose again or he would find himself chucked out of airlock without a spacesuit. He tuned back in again as Rose reached up to wipe the remaining tears from her face, drawing in one more slow breath. “Sorry.” she muttered, glancing at the streaks of tears and mascara she’d left on his light blue shirt. “I’m being ridiculous. It was just a dream.”

“Don’t be sorry.” he replied. One of his hands wandered aimlessly through her hair, tracing where honey blonde met brown roots and trying not to get caught up in the feel of her surrounding him. He contemplated telling her about his nightmares- of which there were many. After all, she’d been open with him. But he put the thought aside, focusing on comforting her. There would be a time for that later. 

After several more minutes of silence, with her rapid heartbeat finally slowing down to normal and then almost to sleep under his fingertips, he began to slide away, setting her gently back on the pillows. To his surprise, her hand shot out, gripping him by the front of his shirt. “Wait.” She whispered, exhaustion heavy on her voice. She turned up to look at him, eyes oddly cautious. “Will you- would you-” She released the hand which was still tangled in his shirt, letting it find his and locking their fingers together gently. Rose huffed, steeling herself. “Would you mind- staying? Just for a bit?” Her voice was so cautious, so unsure, as if this were some kind of massive burden on him rather than the exact opposite. It’s true, he’d never… er… spent the night in Rose’s room, in her bed, but there had been at least a thousand instances, setting her down and tucking the duvet around her or watching her disappear into her bedroom after a particularly dangerous adventure, when he’d wished for exactly this: the opportunity to keep Rose Tyler in his arms. To watch her fall asleep, dream, and wake up. Well, there were other fantasies, where he wasn’t just a guest in her bed… but those were not fantasies he indulged himself in dwelling on. Especially not right now. But the opportunity to comfort Rose, lie with her and stand guard against her nightmares- that was more than enough. 

“Of course.” He said, without hesitation. “Of course I’ll stay.” Then he kicked his trainers off and found himself tucked under the covers with Rose Tyler, who burrowed against his outstretched arm, wrapping an arm around his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world, the way they slept together. _Slept together._ The Doctor grinned one of his larger, more dopey grins at that thought, thankful that Rose’s eyes were closed. 

After several minutes of near silence, Rose’s slow breathing signaling her descent into unconsciousness, the Doctor allowed himself to reflect a bit. It was a bad thing, the worst thing, a nightmare which had brought them together like this. But he could recall few things in his obscenely long life that felt quite as right as Rose Tyler, asleep and safe in his arms. He sighed, getting a deep breath of Rose Tyler on the inhale. She smelled true to her name, but so much more- like tea and tears and vanilla and something a bit sharper, yet so distinctly Rose. He knew as long as he’d live, as many regenerations as he’d have, her scent would be burrowed in his memory forever. He leaned down to press one gentle kiss to her head, her fruity shampoo adding to the mix of Rose he was mentally cataloguing. 

“Doctor?” She asked quietly, too lucid to be sleeptalking. He startled, hearts nearly skipping a beat. but he managed to compose himself quickly. 

“Hm?” he responded, sweeping away a strand of blonde that had fallen over her still-closed eyes. 

“I can hear your heartbeats.” She murmured, and as if on cue, they sped up, thumping out a rhythm that was too fast and entirely her fault. She grinned, almost unnoticeably, against him, burrowing closer so that her head was resting against the centre of his chest. Her voice was slurred with exhaustion, teetering on the edge of sleep. 

“Like a lullaby.” she whispered against her better judgement before finally slipping to sleep. She was gone before she could feel his arms tighten around her, or hear him whisper something into her hair. 

And when she woke up in the morning, he was still there, and her nightmare was gone.


	2. Even Warmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, we've transitioned to the Ten(nant) era- where we shall remain for the rest of the work. If you can handle a little more domesticity and fluff for now, the next couple chapters ought to be a little more exciting. This is a short one, anyway. Just some exploration and establishment of their new relationship... 
> 
> Warnings for now: Still just mentions of the abusive relationship, nothing concrete. In this story, I'm kind of going by the assumption that Jackie and the rest ('cept maybe Mickey) didn't really know the extent to which Rose's relationship with Jimmy was bad, so be warned for that. 
> 
> Oh, and of course this is still unbeta'd, so please forgive any glaring errors (even historical ones).

The second time the Doctor heard Jimmy Stone’s name was tossed out nonchalantly over tea and chatshows on one of Rose’s obligatory trips back to visit Jackie. 

The domestic cost of keeping Rose happy- their frequent trips back to that cramped little flat on the Powell Estates- had seemed steep to him. They had always driven him mad. They had driven him mad in his old body, and that hadn’t changed now that he was young and slim and full of all this manic energy. And in the beginning, when things with Rose were so rocky and unsure and she still looked at him like she didn’t recognize him, they had visited more frequently than ever. 

Jackie had filled their awkward silences with chit chat, even miraculously managing to out-ramble his new, unstoppable mouth. And as they grew back together, Rose and the Doctor, those pauses became less awkward and more companionable. 

Rose stifled a laugh as the Doctor raised his eyebrows in disbelief, tilting his stopwatch towards her to show that they had just passed fifteen minutes of uninterrupted ramble. They had brokered a small bet upon noticing that Jackie was in a particularly chatty mood that day, agreeing that if Jackie could go on for fifteen minutes without a single interjection from either of them, Rose could choose the new color of the TARDIS kitchen. She grinned her classic smug grin, tongue peeking out from in between her teeth, as he feigned poutiness. Really, he was just happy to have something to do other than nod along to Jackie’s monologue. Even if it meant taking breakfast in a pink kitchen for a couple months. 

As Jackie banged around in the kitchen with the usual racket of tea at the Tyler’s, Rose’s giggles wouldn’t stop, and the Doctor felt himself grinning along, more as a reaction to Rose than anything else. She was infectious, particularly when she was grinning like that, and it was enough to make him feel bubbly even over something as mundane as tea with Jackie. Not to mention this new body was all too aware of the way she leaned into him as she laughed, tucked beside him on the loveseat and rubbing her joy off on him with every inch of contact. He was beginning to worry about the possibility of a full-fledged laughing breakdown when a certain word zoned him back into Jackie’s endless ramble. 

“I swear, this old stove’s been fussier than ever, we might haveta buy a new one.” Jackie was saying as she noisily shifted pots and pans about the stovetop. “I’ve had a couple people by to look at it- need to have a stove, after all- Jimmy Stone, remember, from up the street? Yeah, he’s been back in town, I called him ‘cause I remember you told me he was handy with that sort of thing- back when you two were going together. What ever happened there? You leave school for the boy, before you even pass your A-levels, and not 6 months later it’s like he never existed. I mean, you dropped clean off for a bit- can’t say I approved of him, ‘cept when he fixed the telly, of course. Always seemed a bit old for you, sweetheart. Then again, look at you now- off with a man whose god-knows-how old, and of course doing god-knows-what, at least Jimmy Stone kept you on earth! Anyway, I was saying, we might have to get take-away for dinner, this stove’s not doing us any good and I was gonna make a proper meal…” 

The giggling, joyful Rose Tyler of a moment ago was gone. The Doctor had watched, and felt, as Rose’s entire body had stiffened at hearing the name. A ghost of that familiar rage, a rage he felt so differently in this new body, coursed through his veins like ice. He had hoped never to hear that name again, at least, not like this. 

Thankfully, Jackie’s ramble continued uninterrupted, the unanswered questions she had posed swept away by her moving on to another, totally new subject. But Rose’s knuckles were white, fingers digging into one of the cushions on the couch like she was liable to tear it apart. The Doctor could hear the way her pulse jumped in her throat, furrowing her brow to mask the panic in her expression. He reached his hand out, and almost jolted at the feeling that he sensed where his fingertips just brushed hers. That panic he could see on her face, a sort of helpless, memory-driven panic, was just a ghost of the turmoil he felt inside her. His stomach dropped- just one mention of his name was enough to make her feel like this. But his Rose was so strong, so impossibly strong. Nothing should ever make her feel like this. 

Before he had much time to ruminate about it, Rose sprung up off the couch, turning to face the wall opposite them. “Is Chinese okay?” 

“What?” he replied, confused at her sudden outburst. 

“You heard Mum.” her voice was oddly tight, and she was wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach as if she were liable to fall apart otherwise. “No stove. ‘S Chinese take-away alright?”

He swallowed. If she didn’t want to address it, she didn’t have to. But at this point, his curiosity about Jimmy Stone was turning into something more like dread. “It’s fine.” he said softly. He had expected her to just walk away, deflect by changing the subject again or act like nothing had happened. But instead she collapsed back down on the couch next to him (or rather, on him). He reached out his hand to take hers, and she accepted it, warm to his touch as ever. 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” He said, reaffirming his sentiments from the night of her awful nightmares, all those months ago. 

“We do.” Rose replied, barely over a whisper. 

She shivered, so slightly it escaped even his notice, but for once it wasn’t the memories, but the feeling of him skimming his thumb over their joined hands. What was it about this body that made her feel like their hands fit together perfectly?

She knew he would understand. If she could meet his eyes, those impossibly deep, impossibly kind eyes, she knew he would want to help her. But ironically, she needed time. Time to put the right words together, so he wouldn’t look at her like a kicked puppy, like Mickey still sometimes did. Time to separate her wonderful new life from the six months straight out of her nightmares. She sighed. 

“But not tonight.” 

“So.” he said, sensing her readiness to move on. “Why get Chinese take-away when we could just go to the Ming Dynasty? They’re more known for their vases than their fried rice, but they made a mean sichuan duck- sichuan was new, you know, chile peppers being a part of the Columbian exchange and all, but they really caught on fast- Or better yet, let’s go to Hyrien-Gamma! We can land right in the middle of their 2nd renaissance, best take-away I’ve ever had…” 

Rose just smiled and bit her lip, not taking her hand out of his. But as his ramble trailed off, he sensed her hesitance to dive into an adventure just yet. 

“Or…” he began, catching her eye again and smiling. “Or I could grab take-away from the Chinese place down the street, then we can head back to the TARDIS and watch some films.” 

She smiled even wider, leaning to tuck her head against his shoulder. “Sounds perfect.” she murmured, noticing the way he swallowed hard as her breath touched his neck. 

“Oi! What are you lot up to out there?” Jackie emerged from the kitchen, voice no longer a low drone in the background of their conversation. Rose blushed and scrambled to disentangle herself hastily from the Doctor, who just shrugged at Jackie, pocketing his newly empty hands. “You know what, never mind. Take-away, then, I’d phone it in, but my girl Viv was gonna call right around 8…” 

“We’re on it.” Rose replied, already tugging the Doctor out of the flat. 

As soon as the door shut behind them, his hand found hers again, and the Doctor felt even warmer, in spite of the chill coming on in the fall air.


	3. Over the Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again. It's been a minute, I know (sorry!). But these things do happen in exam season, pals. So as far as this chapter goes, as a stand-alone it's a pretty critical moment in their relationship. But it is *intense*, guys. Like, buyer beware serious emotional angst. And some very warm fluffy stuff, so hang in there. 
> 
> And as far as warnings go, for this chapter: memories of abuse (nothing graphic), intoxication (not in the traditional sense), and Jimmy Stone himself makes an appearance in this chapter (in a memory of sorts, but it has the same effect) and he's the worst, so please don't read this if you're triggered by abusive behaviors. It's pretty tame, just memories and recollections and some interaction, but nothing extreme or graphic. 
> 
> Anyway, if any of you are still reading this, please enjoy and excuse the angst :)

The third time the Doctor heard Jimmy Stone’s name, he also saw his face. They had been doing so well- no run-ins with the alien authorities, no stubborn villains from his past to ruin his day, no death threats or explosions or shipwrecks or viral infections. They had been working like clockwork- the Doctor and Rose, saving the day with a well-placed sonic beam or a well-worded negotiation. He had almost been bored with the quiet- and Rose had shared his sentiments. That was part of what made them so compatible- that shared craving for danger, the risk enhancing the reward. 

But he didn’t want this. 

He never wanted this. 

He frantically toggled the settings on his screwdriver, finding the one he needed to disarm the electronic lock system on the door. Inside, handcuffed to a steel table and already looking very panicked, was Rose. Across from her was a humanoid man, gas mask covering the majority of his face, slamming his fists on the table and threatening to take even more extreme measures if she wouldn’t answer his questions. The Doctor had come to in a similar situation- an angry man in a gasmask shouting at him across a steel table, something sinister pumping in through the vents to speed up the interrogation. Luckily, his superior Time Lord physiology had served him well- he had metabolised the airborne toxin in minutes, leaving him able to escape and find Rose. But he knew for a fact, the moment the toxin had entered his system, that it would affect Rose a lot more severely. And that was when his urge to find her became even more desperate, if that was possible. 

“Back off.” he growled, in a voice he hadn’t really known he possessed, as the gasmasked man tried to bar him from undoing Rose’s handcuffs. 

“Doc...ta?” Rose mumbled over the commotion, and he glanced up into eyes that were rapidly losing focus. 

“It’s beyond illegal, these interrogation methods, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll just let us leave.” The Doctor threatened, turning to point his sonic screwdriver at the man like a weapon. Not that it wasn’t a weapon, under the right circumstances, but despite the rage boiling in the pit of his stomach, his priority was getting Rose back to the TARDIS as quickly as possible. 

The man muttered a few choice profanities before turning and swiftly exiting the room, likely to get reinforcements. But by the time they came, he and Rose would be long gone. Holding his breath against the slight nausea from the toxin re-entering his system, he quickly removed Rose’s handcuffs and reached out a hand to help her up. 

“Doctor?” she asked, grasping his hand but making no effort to stand. “What’s happenin’?” He could feel her pulse, increasing by the moment, and he sense the other side effects coming on as her human body began to metabolise the toxin. 

“Rose.” he said seriously, tilting her chin up so that her rapidly shifting eyes met his. “We need to leave. Now.” 

She nodded solemnly, but as she made to stand, a fresh wave of dizziness, nausea, achiness and every other nasty physical side effect hit her and she almost toppled back over. His arms shot out, and not for the first time, he was immensely grateful for the speed of his reflexes. 

“It’s alright.” He said, and in an instant, he had swept her up into his arms. “I’ll carry you.”

In any other scenario, Rose probably would have been indignant at the idea of being carried like a child, especially by the Doctor. But today, she could barely process anything other than the feeling of him scooping her up into his arms. She tucked her head into his neck, breathing in his scent and trying to ignore the nausea that arose as they began to run through the hallways. Her head was spinning, the walls were spinning, everything was falling apart. But his arms were wrapped tightly around her, and she tried to focus on that. 

“Where… why are we runnin’ ?” she whispered, but she knew he could hear her. 

His voice was slightly breathy with exertion, but still impressively rambly. “Remember how we sort of… stumbled in on some private negotiations when we were exploring the facility? Turns out they weren’t too happy with us- thought we spies- really, the two of us stumbling about in broad daylight, spies! And they wanted to see what we knew. But their methods…” His voice grew serious, and he glanced down at Rose once more. She blinked, breath coming harder as if she were the one carrying a person and running. Something was wrong, very wrong. “The room they were interrogating you in, it was filled with this gas. Fairly harmless to me, somewhat powerful for their species, and extremely potent to humans.” He paused, brow furrowing, and set her down carefully next to a shape she recognized as the TARDIS. Then, in a moment, before she could even mourn the loss of his arms around her, he had lifted her up again and was setting her down gently in the jumpseat. He knelt in front of her. “How are you feeling?” He asked quietly, putting a hand up to her forehead to check her temperature- she was already on the verge of fever. 

“Bad.” she said simply, and he winced. “Like, confused an’ dizzy an’ achy an’ a bit scared.” He nodded, eyes dark with concern.

“Rose, this stuff is very powerful. It’s meant to make you more receptive to interrogation, inhibiting your ability filter your speech, inducing some fear and confusion to trigger your cooperation with their questioning. But with you, I don’t know how bad it’s going to get.” With that last sentence, his voice broke slightly. She frowned, reaching out a hand to touch his face, which looked so far away for some reason, but felt so near. Things were beginning to make less sense, but she grasped at his words like a lifeline. He didn’t move away, trapping her hand against his face with one of his own. “I can’t try to flush it out of your system without running the possibly of retroactively making it worse, so we just have to let it run its course. You might hallucinate, you might experience some really strong emotion, you might not be entirely in control of yourself. I need you to tell me now, before it’s entirely come into effect, if I can help you.”

Help her? He was being silly. All he did was help her. She smiled, then frowned, his words running across her mind like a teleprompter. Help her. Help her. Help her. Oh. He meant mentally. Step in and calm her down, using his Timey-Wimey-Time-Lord voodoo. She had always been curious… but she’d never wanted it to happen like this, under these circumstances. But looking into his eyes, she could see nothing but genuine concern, a sort of desperation to help her. And she trusted him. 

“Yes.” she said, using the last of her focus to make the words meaningful and coherent. “I trust you.” 

He sighed with relief, setting aside his own concerns. Yes, he had always been curious… but he never thought she would say yes- that is, under normal circumstances… She didn’t love people poking around her mind, Rose Tyler, but what had she said? She trusted him. It was a delicate process, but he would do it every time if it meant helping her. He just then remembered her hand, which had escaped his notice amongst his spinning thoughts, still trapped against his face, and she used it to tilt him back into focus towards her. 

“Just… please don’t… whatever you see, it’s just-” His hearts clenched as she struggled to word her concern, words tumbling over each other in her haste to explain herself to him. 

Rose swallowed, closing her eyes for a few moments. She would be okay. The Doctor was going to take care of her. 

But when she opened her eyes, the Doctor was gone. 

“Miss me, babe?” Jimmy Stone was looming over her, crooked grin and dark eyes ready to drag her back to the scared 18 year old girl she had been when she’d met him. 

“No.” she wasn’t sure if she was responding to his question or just instinctively rejecting him, but he only smiled. 

“Rose?” She heard a voice from the distance, a voice she wanted to hang on to, but it was too late. Jimmy darkened her vision, hands locking around her shoulder like a vice. 

“No, no, no, please no, not again-” Already, panic was overwhelming her sense of reason. She could see him, hear him, feel him, smell him. Jimmy Stone was back. So she shoved uselessly against him, trying to squirm out of his grip. But she knew that he was stronger than her- she had learned that a long time ago. Still, she fought, pushing and kicking harder as his grip tightened. 

“What’s wrong, Rosie?” he whispered, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck, in her ear. “You’re gonna act like you didn’t miss me? Like you didn’t miss this?” And his hands on her skin were driving her insane, she wasn’t a scared little girl anymore and he couldn’t claim her. But he was going to. 

“Rose? Rose!” The Doctor’s grip around her arm tightened as he saw the panic begin to set in. He tried to meet her eyes, but she was no longer seeing him. Fighting against his grip, the Doctor watched with dread as she began to protest, shoving against him. “Rose, what’s wrong?” he asked, but she was beyond the point of reasoning. She was on the verge of tears, trying desperately to get his arms off of her. He swallowed hard, steeling himself. It was now or never. 

He sat down in the seat opposite her, releasing her arms. But before she had time to flee, or fight, or do anything else reckless, he gently pressed his fingers to her temples. Just like that, the connection was made. She was vulnerable to him, in her current state, and all at once her panic, her fear, her confusion, her pain, her distress broke against his mind like a tidal wave. He winced- after going so long without doing this, the scenario he was currently in was a bit of a rude awakening. Still, though he ignored it to focus on his task, there was an undercurrent- beyond the panic, beyond the toxin and the fear- that was so entirely Rose, and the feeling of their minds connecting was intoxicating in a different way. He swallowed hard, breathing in through his teeth. For her, he needed to focus. 

As he slid inside her mind, her thrashing stilled. She seemed to, on some level, sense that the battle had become a psychological one. Quickly, he found the source of her panic. Her mind was bathed in the toxin- it was like swimming through jello, trying to understand her thoughts. Every action, every vision translated into raw panic. There was no filter, no layer of cognitive thought. She was simply and totally immersed in a waking nightmare. He felt a surge of bitter rage inside him, but he was careful not to transfer it over to her. Those alien interrogators were lucky he had his priorities straight, or they would have been left with more than a warning. No one meddled with a person’s mind like this, and no one hurt Rose. Gritting his teeth he focused back in, targeting her hallucinations. 

“Rooo-sie…” A voice like sandpaper scraped across her mind. He saw her, felt her, like a visual representation she was creating in the hallucination. She was scared- no- she was terrified. And then he found the face to match the voice, he understood why. 

Towering over Rose, fist raised, hands everywhere they shouldn’t be, was a man- a man who had to be Jimmy Stone. His vision practically went black when he saw the man move one arm from his grip on Rose to grasp her face, too hard, making her flinch away. “You’re mine, Rosie. No one else will ever want you.” He laughed, releasing her, shoving her to the floor like a discarded toy. She landed with a thud and didn’t move to get up. “Hell, I don’t even want you. But I’ll take you. I’ll take you again, and again, and again…” He crouched, moving towards Rose’s form, curled up protectively at his feet. 

“No.” The word escaped his mouth without his permission. It was more like a growl than a word, really. In one swift motion, with all his Time Lord prowess, he wrenched Jimmy up by the back of his shirt. For the first time, he got a good look at his face. He was handsome, in a sort of rugged, bad boy way, but he eyes were practically black and seemed to glint like obsidian, promising pain to whoever got close enough to notice. His mouth was twisted into a cruel grin, unshaven chin and cheeks taut with a smile that matched his eyes. And the Doctor hated him. Jimmy was just a vision, a memory, but he HATED him. He wanted to drag him out of Rose’s mind and onto his awaiting fists. He wanted to track down the real Jimmy Stone and give him a bruise for every bad memory he’d ever left Rose with. But for now, getting him the hell out of her mind would have to suffice. “No, you won’t.” And he flexed his mind, and Jimmy Stone the memory scattered like dust, leaving a trail of memories that the Doctor tried and failed to ignore. Jimmy luring Rose out of class to snog in the alleyways, and eventually luring her all the way to his flat, ignoring her mum’s protestations as she disappeared more and more often. Jimmy’s once charming protectiveness becoming a possessiveness, and then a dangerously short temper. He saw the first time Jimmy grabbed her a bit too hard, a bit too fast. He saw the tears into her pillow or hidden in the bathtub when she was certain he was asleep. And, finally, he saw Rose staring herself down in the mirror, all busted lip and black eye, and deciding enough was enough. He saw her packing, crying as she stuffed socks and t-shirts (that familiar pink t-shirt, one of his favorites) into bags and practically ran out of the flat. He saw Jimmy grabbing her arm in the door, eyes glinting in that dangerous way that just screamed trouble, and he saw, with a sort of hardened pride welling in his chest, as Rose Tyler slammed the door in his face and didn’t look back. And just like that, it was him and Rose, alone in the confusion in her mind. 

She had stirred at the sound of his voice. Through her wavering panic, she remembered his promise to help her. And now he was here, crouching over her like the demon he had just displaced. But instead of casting her into shadow, he was like sunshine, like light. In the silence following Jimmy’s departure, he knelt beside her. 

“Rose…” His voice was slow, and impossibly sad. She didn’t understand. He had helped her, he had saved her. Jimmy was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Her sluggish mind fought to understand the look he gave her, but his words beat her to it. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Oh. 

There it was. 

The pity she had been waiting for, had been expecting. The reason she hadn’t told him sooner. He looked at her, and he saw the scared Rose Tyler who had been tossed around by that good-for-nothing bastard for far too long. Her breath caught in her throat, her head spun, and he seemed to sense her panic even before she did. He was in her mind, after all- something she would have to process later. For now, she just stared at him, kneeling next to her, and couldn’t bring herself to say a word. 

“No, no…” he winced, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck and blinking, hard. Her emotions were so raw, like this. Her reactions to his every word and every action were laid out for him to interpret. And he felt her chagrin, almost nausea, at his reaction. Pity- she thought he pitied her. That familiar anger flickered in his stomach. No. He would personally deliver Jimmy Stone to the mouth of the Venomous Jark if given the chance, but no. He didn’t pity her. He thought that she was incredible. 

An idea came to him, and seeing her looking so defeated just made him want to try it more. She was still so confused, and scared, and… intoxicated, for lack of a better word- he doubted that he’d be able to properly tell her how he felt, or that she would understand. 

So he showed her. 

The connection, after all, was not just him intruding in her mind, it was a bond. He needed to make himself just as vulnerable as her to accomplish it, even if he did have a bit more practice. So, gently, he showed her the way that he felt. Not like pity, or sadness, or disgust as she feared. No, he showed her the awe. The way he was certain she was one of the strongest people he’d ever met. The fierce pride he felt every time he thought about how far she’s come. He even showed her the things he’d never even come close to admitting out loud. It all just sort of spilled over, like a tub overflowing. He showed her the fear, deep in his gut, when she was in danger and the intense relief when she was back in his arms. He showed her the butterflies in his stomach whenever she gave him that one tongue-touched smile, all eyelashes and lip-biting. He showed her the way their hands fit perfectly together, the way he soaked up her joy like a sponge and even just seeing her made him stupidly, inexplicably happy. He even let in a flicker of his rage, the rage he always felt towards someone who hurt her that seemed to burn brightest for Jimmy Stone. But he focused on the good, the flood of positive emotions that she needed to comfort her right now. The breathlessness he got when he looked into her eyes a moment too long. The affection, watching her fall asleep against him on the couch. The amazement, watching her blend into his life so naturally and so perfectly. His breath hitched. This was why he had been hesitant to make the mental connection- there was no privacy, no mystery, no hiding his feelings behind a ramble or a joke. She may or may not entirely remember his feelings when she recovered, but for him, it felt like an admission. Something he hadn’t been able to admit to himself. But seeing it played across Rose’s mind, in her eyes, he couldn’t deny it. 

One more feeling, he sent over. The one he had been holding back, subconsciously, even as he bared his soul. The hardest one to transmit, the hardest one to understand. The warmth he felt in every inch of his body when she was near him. The way she buzzed at the back of his mind, making him think of home, feel at home. The way she looked at him like he was her entire world, and he knew that was all he wanted to be. The ache when she wasn’t around him, the desperation when she was unhappy with him, the bittersweet thought of how much time they could possibly have left and how he wanted to spend every single moment of every single one of his lives with her, with Rose Tyler. 

She would call it love. He wouldn’t disagree. 

She gasped as his emotions played across her mind. She could sense that was what he was doing, transmitting his emotions to her as she had to him. She must be regaining her wits a bit, but she would rather not regain them if it meant this feeling would go away. It was everything, it made her heart pound in her chest, it made her breath hitch in her throat. She barely remembered being afraid, now, how could she possibly be afraid in a moment like this? Everything, every single feeling he was showing her, made her beyond happy, blissfully happy, maybe a bit toxin-extreme happy. He cared about her, more than just in the way a person cares about their friend, their companion. He worried about her, noticed her, craved her, thought about her and their future. It was more than she could comprehend, more than she had ever dreamed he felt about her. And looking into his eyes, she saw every emotion she felt reflected. Her head spun, truly spun, but not just in the nauseous way it had been since the prison. This was different, giddy. Suddenly, desperately, she needed him to understand. She wanted him to feel the way that she did right now, and she wanted him to know everything. Every moment, every feeling she had hidden away or locked down for fear of ruining their friendship, pushing him too far, or facing his rejection. Even if she would regret it when her wits were back about her, she had to show him now. 

He was looking at her carefully, from where he knelt in front of her, searching her eyes for some sort of comprehension, a reaction, anything. And just for a moment, she couldn’t stop a face-splitting grin from covering her face. She felt his surge of joy at her reaction, and then his surprise as she basically launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his chest in a hug. She tucked her head against his neck, pausing for a moment to listen for his double heartbeat, the most comforting sound in her world. She ran one of her hands up from his back into his hair, for once relishing the ability to touch him without her usual inhibitions. And as she sensed his surprise fade into something different, something warmer, she took in one more deep breath of him.

Then, she showed him. 

She didn’t have the control, the precision that he’d had. It was a very human jumble of thoughts, memories, feelings, impressions, emotions… but all centered entirely around him. Every time he’d glanced up at her over his spectacles, hunched over some dusty texts in the library and smiled that goofy, giant grin- and the way it made her melt, absolutely melt. Her endearment at his manic button-smashing and rambling over the whirring sounds of space and time and the thrill of excitement she still got every time she remembered he’s chosen her. The little leap in her pulse every time he grabbed her hand on some foreign planet and tugged her along like he just couldn’t wait to start an adventure with her. The trickling warmth in her stomach as she inched a bit closer, just a bit closer still as they snuggled together on the couch, hoping that he wouldn’t notice just how much she craved his closeness. And how she practically had to trap her hands to keep them from constantly touching him, holding his hands, running her fingers through his hair, tracing that manic smile and counting each and every freckle. The way she thought of him, worried about him, dreamt about him, couldn’t possibly get him off her mind even if she wanted to. Even the less purely happy things slipped into her stream of emotions: the wrench in her gut whenever he put his life on the life, the sheer panic of imagining a day or a life without him. The fear that her one human life, her one human mind would never be enough for him, that he could never feel for her what she felt so strongly for him. The loss and confusion she’d been left with when he’d regenerated: fearing somehow, inexplicably, this version of him wouldn’t want her, didn’t need her. 

Because that was what it boiled down to, she supposed. A need, something deeper than companionship, an ache in her soul only he fulfilled. The way he was the person she thought about falling asleep, waking up, and in practically every moment in between. He was the only person who had ever made her feel like… more. More than a shop girl, a poor kid who grew up on the Estates, and now, more than a victim. She was more with him. He made her better, and he was her entire world. 

She showed him love, and he understood it. 

So much for superior Time Lord physiology- it wasn’t serving him very well right now. He could barely breath, it would seem. It was so raw that it bordered on painful, but nothing could possibly be painful about this. Sure, they had danced around each other’s flirtations for practically as long as he could remember, but this wasn’t flirtation, and this wasn’t friendship. It was love, it was so obviously love. Not just Rose Tyler, loving him helplessly from afar. Not just him, pining after Rose Tyler with so much uncertainty borne into him that their relationship was frozen. No, this was a connection between two people who knew quite clearly that each was the most important person in the world, no, the universe to the other. And it was fantastic. 

Just brilliant. 

More than he’d hoped for, dreamed of even. 

Even as he sat, Rose Tyler practically in his lap as the physical evidence of their shared revelation, he was slow to process it. He drew back slightly, needing to meet her eyes. She bit her lip, somehow nervous even despite his own confession. She really, really was beautiful. He was in a unique position to know some of the most beautiful women in history, any history for that matter. But not a single one of them made his hearts stir like Rose Tyler. 

“You mean it?” he asked simply, and even though he sounded matter-of-fact, Rose could sense the vulnerability behind that question- just how severely a ‘no’ would affect him. But she quickly put his fears to rest. 

“Yes. Yes, of course.” She stammered, words coming out rushed in her desperation to comfort him. He began to grin, then he sensed her trepidation. “And you?” She whispered, holding her breath as she waited for his answer. “You mean it?”

“I really, really do.” His words were similarly ineloquent, but all that she needed to hear. She buried her face in his shirt, perfectly happy. 

Once again, she marveled at even just being able to hug him, openly relish every inch of physical contact, without the fear of putting him off. Something slightly different than joy stirred inside her, and in her current state, she was hopeless to staunch it. Her cheeks blushed red, thankfully out of his line of sight, because she knew he could read her like a book. He could sense exactly how aware she was of every plane of his chest, taut and oh so accessible under just a few layers of fabric… and she could swear she heard his hearts beat just a bit faster. He was so close, she could feel him… smell him… taste him. She breathed at his neck… just an inch closer, and she could finally feel his pulse against her lips, inch her way up to his mouth with all the slowness she could afford, finally find out if their mouths matched like their hands did… She shivered, worrying that in her current state, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. Even so, she lifted her eyes up to meet his, faces inches apart. She closed her eyes, drawing in a breath. 

His hearts really must be failing, now. Respiratory bypass be damned, he couldn’t be bothered to breath right now, every feeling from the woman in front of him pooling in his mind tantalizingly. He swallowed. This was different. Really different. And he’d known from the moment he’d met her how much he wanted it, every one of the those feelings only amplifying when he’d regenerated into this brand-new body designed for her. It would be so easy, just a miniscule flex of the muscles, gapping the distance between their mouths, and he could close the gap between them- physically and emotionally. Her warm breath mingled with his as he finally remembered to breath, pheromones only adding to his temptation. It was an invitation, more than that, a request. Finally, he leaned in. 

And his lips brushed the skin of her cheek, as gentle as he could manage with the erratic pounding of his hearts fueling his movements. 

Her eyes fluttered open, and he could see the subdued confusion there, the slight sting of rejection. 

“I want to.” He said softly, tilting his forehead against her, his hesitation reaffirmed by the fever he still felt there. “But not right now. Not like this.” 

She made a small affirmative noise, swallowing. After a moment’s contemplation, she smiled. It wasn’t just a moment of passion and vulnerability that had sparked between them. He really wanted this. She thought for the first time what this could mean, going forward. Their future- together. She grinned in earnest now. 

“I can wait.” she said, tilting her grin upwards towards him. “Time isn’t really an issue for me.” 

“Isn’t it?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing despite the lightness of his tone. 

“Not anymore.”


End file.
